“Go on,” he urged.
His flesh was not only hard but warm and there was a scent about him that she favored, though she could not say what it was and it was unseemly for her to even think such a wicked thing.
Please. Please let me find a wound, she thought.
Just as her fingertips grazed the hair that nestled his shaft she saw it. Low on his right side, a bruise much too dark that she feared it could prove a problem. Without thinking she dropped to her knees to take a closer look. She had seen some wounds like this cut and forced to bleed, but the person always died.
Her fingers probed it gently and he did not flinch, though it had to have pained him. There was nothing she could do except apply salve as she would to his scratches. She reached for the small crock in the basket just behind him and lost her balance. She tried to right herself, fearful her face would land against his groin.
His hands were quick, yanking her up clear off the floor. “When I am ready to have you between my legs I will let you know. Now tend my wounds.”
He dropped her to her feet and this time she made certain to keep her balance. He had actually thought she intended to—her stomach rolled over not only at his wrong assumption, but the vision it evoked. Could he possibly expect such wickedness from her?
Not wanting to give it another thought, she hastily applied the salve, giving the bruise a quick dab, not daring to linger. With deft hands she tended his minor scratches.
His words persisted in disturbing, running wildly in her head. His intentions were all too clear. He would have her when he was ready. If not today or tomorrow, one day he would have his way with her. And there was naught she could do about it. She was as trapped as he was.
“What other food have you?”
He walked to the door and sat, bracing his back against it. He rested his head back and took a deep breath, as if his ordeal had suddenly tired him and he needed to reclaim his strength.
When he lifted his head and saw her staring he went rigid and snapped, “Be quick about it.”
Dawn scrambled to gather the food items. For a moment, a sheer moment, she thought she caught sight of the fatigue that had surely claimed him and yet it took a mere instant for him to regain his strength.
She had brought plenty of food recalling how Colum had told her to keep the prisoner well fed, much like an animal fattened before slaughter. She intended to leave all she had brought setting it on a cloth beside him along with a flask of ale.
She turned intending to sit by her basket and once again prayed she could soon take her leave.
“Eat with me,” he said.
She looked at him oddly. No women dared eat until the warriors finished their food. And besides she had no stomach to partake of any sustenance.
He shoved a piece of bread at her and fearing the consequences should she not obey, she took it. She did however pretend that she nibbled at it. If she even dared take a bite she would surely choke, her mouth was so dry.
Silence followed and she wondered if he waited for a response from her. She dreaded the moment he found out she had no voice. How would he feel that Colum chose a dumb one to tend him? Would he be angry and lash out at her? She was surprised it had gone this long without him questioning her lack of response, though she supposed he believed fear held her tongue.
“Colum sends me a quiet one. One who listens rather than speaks.”
She made no move to explain. Better he thinks what he wishes to think and save her from explaining.
“No doubt there is a reason he chose you in particular to tend me.”
On that point he was surely right.
“Shy, quiet, not one to gossip, but one who allows others to speak, while she listens.”
True she was shy, not able to gossip, though she doubted she would if she could, having seen the hurt and damage it could cause. Naturally, she had no choice but to listen.
“When one truly listens, one truly hears.”
That he understood that surprised her. Being immersed in silence forced her to listen, truly listen as he had said. And she heard, heard far more than others were aware of, but no one with a voice would understand that. Yet this savage did.
“Your name.”
Dread descended over her. The moment she feared was upon her.
“Stop being cowardly and tell me your name.”
A name was so easy for a person to recite, to make an introduction. She had never had that opportunity and with the discovery of her affliction people shied away or were rude.
“Have you no tongue,” Cree snapped.
Thankfully she did have that and she stuck out the tip to prove it.
“So you do have some courage.”
His grinning laugh surprised her and made him appear all the more handsome, but at the moment that did not matter to her. What did matter was that he had found her response amusing and it would be wise to take advantage of his levity and make him aware of the truth.
Dawn pressed her fingers to her throat and shook her head.
“You cannot speak?”
She nodded and waited apprehensively for his response.
“How long before you can?”
He did not understand. He assumed her ill.
She shook her head, trepidation mounting.
He looked with puzzling eyes on her and leaned forward away from the door and closer to her, his face so close to hers that his warm breath brushed her cheek. “Are you telling me that you cannot speak at all?”
She answered with one quick bob of her head.
“Not a grunt or groan?”
She shook her head and waited.
“How long have you suffered this —” he shook his head— “I am asking you questions you cannot answer.”
She was about to gesture that she could speak with him in her own way, but recalled Colum telling her that she was to report everything Cree said to her. If he knew that she could communicate then he might be averse to saying anything to her. Colum would certainly punish her if she had no information to give him. So she chose not to let Cree know.
“Colum was wise for sending me a dumb one.”
Dawn was aware that anyone without a voice was referred to as dumb, but along with it came the assumption that the person was also ignorant. Her mother had made certain she was anything but that. Though she could not speak, she could understand French, Latin and various Gaelics, her mother having taught her. And her mother had encouraged her drawing, insisting that Dawn had been given such a generous talent as a distinct way of communicating.
“He believes he has bested me.”
Did he suddenly think her deaf too? Would he chatter away and give her news to take to Colum?
“You do have a name, do you not?” Cree asked.
She nodded.
“Is there some way you can express it to me?’
She didn’t see any harm in letting him know her name. She turned her gaze on the ground beside her and cleared the dirt of the few leaves and stones, grabbing one as she finished. She drew a horizontal line and above it a half circle. She finished it with lines bursting from the top of it.
Cree studied it a moment and then glanced up at her. “Dawn. Your name is Dawn.”
She smiled and nodded, pleased that he understood so quickly.
“Dawn,” he said curtly.
Her name was so abrupt on his lips that she thought him angry. However, she did not shiver, though she remained still.
“It is time for you to take your leave.”
He stood then and returned to the shadowy corner.
She did not hesitate to stand and hurry to the door, leaving the bucket of water and basket of remaining food for him. She wanted out of the small prison and away from Cree.
“Dawn.”
Not a shout, and yet the potency of it had her cringing and reluctantly turning around. She could not see him, the shadows having swallowed him. She waited hoping he had not changed his mind.
“When you return with my evening mea
l bring a blanket.”
She nodded, relief trickling all the way down to her toes.
“Make it a large one. You will be sleeping with me tonight.”
Chapter Four
Night fell and pitched Cree into total darkness. A chill came with it, but he did not shiver or bemoan his circumstances. He remained strong and focused on what must be done next. He needed to learn as much as he could.
He had had no doubt that the stout leader Colum would send him a woman or ply him with food in hopes of retrieving information from him before they tortured him mercilessly, and then killed him. It appeared his fate was inevitable or at least his enemies believed so.
He had counted on their ignorance, and they hadn’t failed him. Though he had been surprised to see that Colum had sent him a woman who could not speak, assuming he could learn nothing from her. Dawn, however, was not as dumb as no doubt many assumed. In the short time he had spent with her, he learned that she was capable of communicating, and he doubted that Column was aware of the extent of her soundless speech.
She would serve him well, and he would see that she did, though he couldn’t allow lust to interfere with his plans. He had grown hard when her face accidentally met his groin. He had not bed a woman in awhile, his mission keeping him busy so it had only been natural that Dawn’s mishap had grown him hard.
While he could easily abate his need between her legs, he had no intention of bedding her. He favored women who could moan and groan and scream, quite loudly with pleasure from his mighty thrusts.
He would make Colum think Dawn was serving his purpose while using her to his advantage. Then when the time was right...
Night shadows scurried away from him when he grinned, the dark even fearing him.
He had fought many battles in his bid to get here and now that he was here, he would let nothing stand in his way—especially not a plain woman without a voice.
Why his thoughts lingered on her he could not say, perhaps it was the fact that though the smell of fear had weighed heavily on her, she had not let it consume her. She had remained stoic, shedding not a single tear nor begging on bended knee. She had done what was expected of her in spite of it all.
Still, he had no intentions of involving himself with a voiceless woman. His lust would have to wait and then he’d find himself a woman that he’d make scream with pleasure. He’d need one. He’d always had a woman after battle, a willing one. He could not abide nor would he condone his men forcing any woman. If they could not find a willing one, then they could assuage their own lust.
He shook his thoughts away. He had no time to waste on such trivial musings. His mission came first and foremost, that was what he needed to concentrate on. His time was limited and he needed to be prepared. He could tell upon entering the village that his scouts’ information had proven accurate. They had mapped the area well, designating buildings, estimating the populace, and detailing the workings of the village. He was familiar with it all and so when he had arrived at the Village Dowell it was as if he was returning to a place he knew well.
Dawn had caught his eye not soon after entering the village. How could she not? She stood out in the crowd being taller than most men. He couldn’t say what made him focus on her, her features certainly didn’t captivate, though didn’t repel. Her body was pleasing enough, a narrow waist and full hips just as he liked them, though her breasts didn’t even look to be a handful. Her hair hung long and the color wasn’t particularly appealing—dark red—and without a curl or wave to it, though it shined. And the scent had been quite pleasing. It reminded him of the heather covered hills on a fine autumn day.
He forced the smile from his face as soon as he realized it had surfaced. He didn’t need to be thinking about Dawn. But there had been something about her when their eyes had met that had stirred him unexpectedly. He had nearly gotten hard and that was unusual for him. He controlled his lust never letting it rule him. That a woman, plain and voiceless, could tempt him so easily disturbed him.
The latch creaked and Cree jumped to his feet annoyed that he had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard anyone approach. He silently berated himself for not paying heed and losing himself in foolish musings.
The door sprung open and Dawn stumbled in, the guard’s laughter trailing in after her as he forced it shut. Cree clenched his fist, angry with the man for shoving her and promising himself that the idiot would suffer for it.
Cree walked over to her, stopping so close their bodies almost touched. “Are you all right?”
She nodded.
He stared at her lips wondering what it must be like to never be able to speak a word, never make yourself known, never to cry out in pleasure. He turned hastily away from her.
“I’m hungry.”
She hurriedly set to work, her hands trembling and her thoughts in turmoil. She knew lust when she saw it. She would see it in Paul’s eyes for his wife and in other men when they sniffed after women.
Even though the hut was dark, they had stood close enough for her to see the lust in Cree’s eyes. And while she feared what she saw, it also troubled her that she felt a quickening in her stomach. Was it because she had never lain with a man that her body responded? Was it nothing more than her body’s need that she felt? Had it been unnatural for her to go so long without mating?
She didn’t like these thoughts that buzzed like a swarm of bees in her head, and she tried to keep focused on her task at hand.
Cree watched her work. Her hands trembled, though she kept good control, not allowing it to interfere with her chore. She fumbled with the pouch that hung from the belt at her waist, but got it open quick enough. He was surprised when the scent of heather filled the confined space. She sprinkled handfuls of the scented sprigs around and he was grateful. It helped mask the lingering pungent odor.
She spread a blanket on the hard earth and placed two folded ones on it. She then emptied the basket of food setting generous amounts in the middle of the blanket.
He almost grinned. Colum planned on keeping him well feed and his lust appeased in hopes Cree would speak freely to Dawn. Cree had other plans. He would be the one to learn from Dawn. Though mute, she had obviously found a way to communicate with those who bothered to pay attention, and he would pay her attention.
She waved her hand over the blanket inviting him to partake.
Cree walked around to where she stood on the opposite side of the blanket, sensing her apprehension as he approached. He admired her fortitude to keep a stoic stand, though she obviously wished to run. Where would she run? There was no place for her to go.
He held his hand out to her. “Allow me to help you sit.”
Her eyes turned wide and if she hadn’t been mute, he had no doubt that his unexpected mannerly action would have turned her speechless.
Hesitantly, her hand stretched out to him.
He didn’t wait; he snatched hold of it. Her chilled hand soon turned warm in his heated one, and he was surprised that her skin felt soft. He had thought with all her chores that calluses would mar her hands, but not so.
With his grip strong, he assisted her to the ground. He then returned to the other side and sat down.
“Did you cook any of this?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“You don’t work in the kitchen?”
She nodded.
“What do you do there?”
Dawn stared at him a moment surprised that he attempted to converse with her and surprised that she favored the idea.
She pointed to the thyme in the bread and the onions in the stew and with her hands demonstrated picking and chopping them.
“You gather and help prepare.”
She nodded.
“Many work in the kitchen?”
She held up her two hands and then closed one.
“Fifteen,” he said and she confirmed with a nod.
He was impressed that she could count and did so without hesitation. She obvi
ously was familiar with numbers or she would have hesitated.
“Column must love to eat.”
Her hand moved back and forth to her mouth as if shoveling in food, and it caused Cree to laugh and Dawn to smile.
Even with the bare amount of light they had he could see that her smile had turned her otherwise plain face quiet lovely. She would never be a beauty, but he found something about her attractive that was just too damn hard to ignore, and so did his groin. It stirred much too much to his liking.
“Does Column feed his people as well as he feeds himself?”
Her smile faded, though she nodded.
“He feeds his people but does not treat them well.”
She shrugged and Cree understood that she would dare not betray the man who could cause her great harm.
“Have you lived in Dowell since your birth?” he asked, deciding to take a different tactic. He’d learn more about her, thus learning more about the workings of the village and in essence Column.
She shook her head and held up both hands spreading her fingers.
“Ten years you’re here?”
She nodded and smiled.
He noticed that her dark eyes lit along with her smile. “You came here with your mum and da?”
Dawn held up one finger.
“You came with only one—your mum?”
She nodded and again her smile faded as she shook her head.
“Your mum died?”
She nodded surprised he understood. She hadn’t been trying to tell him of her mum’s passing. She always saddened at the memory of losing her mum. She loved her dearly and mi—
“You miss her.”
Again he caught her by surprise, understanding her thoughts, as if he could read them. She gave a quick nod.
“You are alone now?”
She shook her head and smiled.
“Column sends me a wedded woman?” he snarled.
Dawn drew back fearful. He sounded like a snarling dog ready to bite and she hastily shook her head.
“Explain,” he snapped.
Dawn panicked, her skin turning hot and her stomach churning. How could she explain to him? Would he understand her gestures or would he grow angry with her?
Highlander Unchained (Highlander Trilogy 1) Page 3
